


haier

by bruhxism



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, i got trope jokes for days, literal fridging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:57:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruhxism/pseuds/bruhxism
Summary: Widow gets Tracer a Christmas present.Reaper frowns, arms folded across his chest as they stand in Lena's apartment.  Widowmaker can't see his face, but she can hear it in his voice."Are you sure this is what she wanted?"





	

If there was one thing Talon did not take from Widow, it was her ability to covet. Perhaps that is why she clings to the feeling, nurtures it and lets it blossom as she watches Lena Oxton through her scope.

It takes six days of recon, eight days of shipping fiasco and one call to Sombra to sort out the shipping fiasco. She doesn't understand why the delivery company was convinced Lena Oxton lived in a pizza parlor, but that's besides the point. Everything is ready for the big night on time.

Reaper frowns, arms folded across his chest as they stand in Lena's apartment. Widowmaker can't see his face, but she can hear it in his voice.

"Are you _sure_ this is what she wanted?"

"Oui."

This sort of thing works for Sombra all the time. Her gift is beautiful, with a brushed stainless finish and 545 litre capacity. They had to take the shelves out to make room, but it's the thought that counts, right? She picks up the lump that is Tracer's current girlfriend and shoves her into the fridge. She uses a heeled boot to keep the body in place as she tries to get the _French_ doors closed.

"A little help, Reyes?" she punctuates her request with a glare.

He sighs, "Still not sure this is a great idea."

Widow only scoffs as the fridge closes neatly.

She leaves a single purple wrapping bow stuck to the door along with a Post-it in looping cursive: _Merry Christmas, ma chérie_

Reaper helps her get the old appliance out the door and down the stairs. They leave it in an alley and retreat. All that's left to do is wait.

About thirty minutes later the microphone they left in the apartment picks up Lena announcing her return home.

"Hey, Emily! Shopping was bloody murder,"

There's a pause when she reaches the kitchen, and presumably when she notices the behemoth of a refrigerator that doesn't even properly fit where the old one sat.

"Oh no. Not fucking AGAIN Amélie!"

Widow's earpiece comes alive with the sound of Tracer screaming. A thud as Emily falls out of the fridge.

"No no no! Emily! Emily! Please no,"

Christmas accomplished.

\---

She gets a text from Sombra later.

S: Widow wtf

W: Is this not how you do it?"

S: Dios. No? Strategy meeting tomorrow. 2 drunk rn

**Author's Note:**

> Haier makes fridges.


End file.
